Eklectricity
by percychased
Summary: #1 - The first words ever spoken to each other were those of apologies and of his brother. Percy/Katie. #2 - Dean Thomas and post-war guilt. #3 - Oliver Wood is too much of a gentlemen. #4 - Andromeda is waiting, and it is raining. #5 - Roxy has one brilliant idea. (A drabble collection for the Hogwarts Winter Olympics - 5/5)
1. Eklectricity

_Percy/Katie - 1_

* * *

Percy examined the girl sleeping next to him. She looked completely at ease, curled up with the pillow and close to his side.

If someone would have told him in his Hogwarts years he was to be spending the rest of his life with loud, sarcastic, and energetic Katie Bell, he would have told them (very firmly, of course) to find a mental institution in which they could recieve the help they so obviously needed.

She was nothing like him, really. He liked the Ministry and order and rules, and she liked Quidditch (he suppressed a shudder – that was simply nonsensical _danger_) and the twins' shop, and she especially liked rule-breaking.

But if you thought about it a little bit more, you could see the small similarities the two had. She was light enough to sweep him off his feet – and he was simply heavy enough to hold her to the ground. Even the little things, things that really didn't matter – stuff like how they both liked English Breakfast, and loathed Orange Pekoe.

Katie shifted in his hold and pressed her head to his chest, still breathing evenly. Her hair was as big as she was, mussed and fanned out on the pillow.

Percy could hardly fathom it – _this, _and how much he'd grown to love this.

They met one night in Diagon Alley, after Katie had an argument with her mother and Percy was leaving after a stressful and rather long day of work at the Ministry. She ran into him, but fairly enough, they both weren't looking where they were going.

She had introduced herself, smiling brightly and brushing off her robes, before asking him to send her regards to George, who happened to be a school friend.

It was funny, that after four years of attending school together – in the same _house, _even – that the first words ever spoken to each other were those of apologies and of his brother.

He hadn't seen her for six months after that, when she Flooed the Ministry to inform her brother that his wife had gone into labour.

It was _another _six months – almost a year to the date that they ran into each other in the Alley – that he asked her out on a date. She stood there the whole time, while he stumbled over his words (he never really had much experience in this department, did he?) with a corner of her mouth quirking up, like she knew exactly what he was going to say.

The first date turned into two, three, four, until his family found out and while his elder brothers congradulated him on "little Perce finally finding a bird," George and Ron took the mickey out of him (you'd think being married to Angelina and Hermione would restrain them a little, but it seemed as though that was not the case).

They seemed like an unlikely pair – George started a bet on how long they would last, the longest bet being Charlie with a year.

When the day after their first anniversary hit, Percy sat stiffly in the chair to his desk and smirked slightly – it felt odd on his face, and Katie said it just didn't suit him, but he was proud. So very proud.

What was that Muggle thing his father was always talking about – elkeltricity, it was? _Like charges repel. Opposite charges attract. _

It couldn't have been more true.

* * *

a/n - Hogwarts Winter Olympics - Biathlon, sprint, Write All the Ships (Percy/Katie), One Million Words Competition, and Represent that Character. Word count: 570. A study break drabble for a pairing I was wanting to try. Thoughts?


	2. Flash

_Dean Thomas - 2_

* * *

Post-war guilt was something Dean Thomas was highly educated on.

Not through textbook means, of course, but from first-hand experience. He should have been _better. Faster. _Maybe if he was, he could have saved Colin's life. More lives; maybe the graveyard they had to make specifically for war victims wouldn't exist. Every night, just like a clockwork, he saw the flash of blonde and green that haunted him in his dreams, the flashbulb of the camera going off.

_Flash. _

Someone falls, and Dean's not fast enough.

_Flash. _

It's his sister this time, and she can't do anything, she's _five, for Merlin's sake, why are they doing this to her? _

_Flash. _

Seamus, screaming and twisting and begging and pleading, but the Crucio falls from the Death Eater's lips so easily.

_Flash. _

The bulb burns out – burned too quickly, too brightly – and now he's in the dark. Surrounding by a mass of _nothing, _such a big mass of nothing that he's being crushed underneath the weight of it. Apathy is something he can't remember _not _having. The lazy feeling, the wanting to sleep all day and never come out of that cocoon of blankets he's made.

Dean spots a stain on the corner of one of them, and instantly goes back to a time where they all sat in the boys' dormitory, laughing. Seamus' butterbeer sloshed over the rim of the cup, and they were too entertained in whatever it was they were talking about that neither of them even noticed.

He noticed now. Oh, did he ever.

He tosses and he turns but the guilt just continues to build, starting in his heart and building up to his throat and his lungs, and it's choking him. He can't breathe, not really.

They – _everyone else, really –_ paint such a lovely picture, he thinks, of returning to a "normal life" once the war is over. Warm butterbeers and Quidditch in the garden and home-cooked meals and a simple life, and his whole body has been wired for adrenaline so long (it's in his veins) he can't shake it off anymore. The running, the hiding, the fighting back – his hand twitches, searching for his wand. It's under his pillow every night – when hadn't it? His fingers fasten around the cool wood, and he's tapping his foot. He can't stay still – not now, not then, not ever.

The sitting, the staring, the smiling – it kills him, it really does. They pretend they haven't seen the torture, the murder – they pretend some of it hasn't happened to them first-hand – and he wonders, honest to Merlin, how you erase that from your own mind.

Maybe he wasn't Gryffindor enough to put on his brave face, like his mother would say, and smile and laugh and give presentations on how wonderful a friend Colin Creevey was.

Or maybe he's too much of a Gryffindor. He's too brave to lie to himself.

* * *

a/n - wordcount 501. For the Hogwarts Winter Games, Represent that Character, and Write a Million Words.


	3. Good

His mother always told him he was a good man.

Oliver Wood was now inclined to agree. As obsessive and maniacal as he could be, he knew he had some redeeming qualities about himself.

(Even if he didn't want them at the current moment.)

If he wasn't what his mother said, she'd probably be his right now. If he didn't follow the rules, Quidditch or otherwise, she'd be his right now.

But he _had _to be the "good man," didn't he? Such a brave Gryffindor, stepping aside.

(He didn't want to step aside, of course, but that wasn't the point, was it?)

Oliver would have fought for her. He would have, really – he wouldn't of backed down, wouldn't of given up if he knew there was a chance for them to be together. Oliver Wood was not one for _giving up. _The word had a very bitter taste in his mouth and he'd rather jump on the end of Flint's broom than _give up. _

(But he gave up anyways, because if she loves another, what's the point?)

She does love another. He sees it in the way she looks at him, the way her eyes light up when he's with her and how she blushes like a schoolgirl when he kisses her hand. Oliver would mutter a side comment about how rather nauseating that was, but truthfully, the only thought on his mind would be how much he'd rather that be him.

(It wasn't him. It would never be him. It was silly to think otherwise, wasn't it?)

That boy – well, man, now – was one of his best friends. He couldn't comprimise the relationship of one of his best mates. The guilt would eat him up like nothing he'd known before. Oliver's trying to connect this to Quidditch, but nothing comes up, and he's panicking.

(Quidditch is the only thing he's ever loved, except for her.)

_Except for her. _That would always be his excuse, wouldn't it? She was his excuse. An excuse for doing something cowardly. She was his weakness, and as silly, as petty as it was, he'd still use _her _as an excuse for getting out of something.

(He can only see her, everywhere he goes.)

He sees her in the other blonde girls in Diagon Alley and the other short, petite girls with loud voices and shiny hair in the Quidditch shops. He sees her when he looks at the model of her broom on displat, honest to Merlin, and he's pretty sure she's everywhere.

(Driving him mad, she is. He's insane and the only asylum he can be admitted to is her.)

But he won't say anything. He'll never say anything. He's a good man, he is, as loathe as he is to admit it, the places inside of his head that are screaming at him _not to be, for Merlin's sake._ And whether it is with him – which is the preferable option, of course – or with someone else, he'd do anything to see Katie Bell happy.

* * *

a/n - wordcount 507. Hogwarts Winter Olympics, biathlon, pursuit. Also for One Million Words and Represent that Character.


	4. Raining

She sits, tapping at the window, waiting for them to come home.

The wind whistles in the background, and it's a dreadful day. The rain draws a path down the window, and she watches it, slowly, as it makes its descention.

_Tap. Tap. Tap. _She runs a hand through her hair, and wonders if this miserable May day is an omen.

Her daughter had asked her to watch over her grandson - "A few hours, Mum, I promise!" - and she said they'd be back. It wouldn't take too long, and Teddy should be fine, right?

The moon was illuminated the window, and the heavy, rhythmic breathing of Teddy soothed her only a slight bit. Andromeda was still on edge, waiting for them to come home.  
For a brief second, she considered going to where they were.

But who was to watch over Teddy? And if everyone was there, if that was it... well, there was a reason she wasn't in Gryffindor. She still couldn't face Narcissa, even after all these years. Bellatrix, maybe, but her elder deranged sister and herself had never been close. Narcissa, though, baby of the family...

She shook her head and attempted to stop herself from brooding.

They were coming back. They _had _to come back. Not just for her, but for their newborn son, who had no idea the amount of trouble they were probably getting into right now.

As much as her lips tried to resist it, a grin tugged at her features. Trouble – oh, if there was any word to describe her daughter, it would be that. Trouble was the only word she could think of, and memories of letters from Pomona Sprout and even a strongly-worded letter from Professor McGonagall once sprang up, written accounts of the escapades her daughter had gotten up to while in Hogwarts.

She wondered when Dora had grown up so fast. Graduated, got a job, married, had a baby. Hadn't been not to long ago she eloped with Ted? He stood in the clearing, wearing a Muggle suit, and she wore a dress that floated down to her knees. And shortly after, they held Dora in their arms for the first time and they both swore that they'd do anything to protect her. Anything.

Andromeda was failing, failing her promise to herself, her late husband, her daughter, and even her son-in-law, whom she'd grown to adore. The man was brilliant, even if he couldn't see it.

And Teddy. Teddy needed his mother. Andromeda was growing old, and she, herself, still needed a mother.

She sat at the window, tapping her fingers, tracing the groves in the worn wood. She's been sitting here for hours upon hours, and they should be back by now, shouldn't they? It had been definitely more that a few hours since they'd left... they _had _to come back. They, along with Teddy, were the only things she had left.

The rain continued to pour, and Andromeda continued to watch. They _had _to come back. They _had _to.

* * *

a/n - for Hogwarts Winter Olympics, Biathlon, mass start. Also for One Million Words and Represent that Character. Word count: 506.


	5. Idea

"A surprise birthday party? I don't know..." said Lucy, biting her nails.

"C'mon," said Roxy, streching her legs out on the sofa of the Burrow, "she'll love it, really. Lily loves surprises, remember?"

"That," accused Rose, pointing a pretzel at Roxy, "is the biggest lie I've ever heard. We _all _know Lily absolutely loathes surprises."

"Yes, but she doesn't even _know _we're up to anything," Roxy tried to convince her cousins. "Come on. _Please?" _

"It still doesn't sound like the best idea," replied Lucy, hesitantly. "How and when and where and why..."

"Luce, we'll figure that out," Roxy flippantly waved a hand in Lucy's direction, rotating her body so she was sitting up. "She only turns sixteen one. Plus, she's the baby of the family, besides Hugo, right? It's not like we'll get another chance."

"You're barmy," said Rose, shaking her head – but Roxanne had already clearly started to grate her down, as there was some semblance of a smile on her face.

"I still don't know," said Lucy.

"If, and I say _if, _we get in trouble, we won't blame you, I promise," said Roxy. "We won't get you in trouble with Uncle Perce."

Lucy uncharacteristically rolled her eyes at her cousin.

"So..." drawled Roxy, "how about it?"

"You realize your mother is going to kill you, right? She's still not too happy about the Quidditch in the garden incident." Roxanne winced at the memory before responding to Rose's statement.

"Ah. Right. Forgot about that," Roxanne looked mildly uncomfortable. It had been a very unpleasant experience for both of the seventeen year olds.

"I don't quite fancy getting grounded again," responded Rose.

"I don't quite fancy getting grounded at _all,_" responded Lucy.

"Live a little, Luce," Roxanne bumped her cousin's shoulder. "I'm pretty good at baking. I can make the cake."

"Roxanne, you are complete _pants _at cooking. I can make the cake," replied Rose.

"So we _are _doing the surprise party?" asked Roxanne happily.

Lucy didn't say anything.

"I guess so. You wouldn't have stopped bothering me until I said yes," sighed Rose.

"Not _bother. _Just mildly annoy."

"Is there a difference, Roxy?"

"Not particularly, no."

"I'm pretty sure your dad used to experiment his products on you when you were a kid. There's no other explanation for you," laughed Rose.

"Objection," said Roxanne, but there was a smile on her face. "He did that to me _and _Freddie. Duh."

"So this surprise party, huh?" replied Lucy. "If we don't cause _too _much trouble..."

"I think I might be wearing her down," grinned Roxanne. "C'mon. It'll be fun. _Pleeeeease?_"

"Oh, fine," Lucy huffed, but the smile on her face ruined the effect. "As long as you two are the ones who get in trouble for the things that go wrong."  
"Nothing is going to go wrong," Roxanne protested.

"Actually, according to our past record..."

* * *

a/n - according to openoffice, wordcount is 502. for Hogwarts Winter Games, biathlon: relay, and also for Represent that Character and One Million Word Competitions. And with this, the collection is finished :)


End file.
